


The Enforcer and the Musician

by TheDarkSideofEnergon



Series: The First Time [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: But light angst, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sort Of, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSideofEnergon/pseuds/TheDarkSideofEnergon
Summary: "A normal mech would have breathed a sigh of relief, left the scene of the crime, maybe even laid low for a little bit. But Jazz liked a bit of a challenge, and a certain black-and-white had caught his attention now."Just a few short moments of a few firsts in Jazz and Prowl's relationship.





	The Enforcer and the Musician

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed. Hopefully the first in a series of "firsts" for various pairings.

The first time Jazz saw him, he was arresting a mech for illegal street racing. Sure, Jazz had been in the race too, but _he_ was good enough to not get caught. The black and white Enforcer was in the middle of reading the unfortunate mech his rights when he suddenly stopped and looked around, scanning the area. Jazz went still, letting the mech scan right over where he was hiding. The delicate doorwings twitched, up, down, out. Then he shook his helm a little and went back to his arrest. Jazz remained frozen in place until the Enforcer had loaded the cuffed mech into a larger vehicle and transformed himself, leaving the area.

 

A normal mech would have breathed a sigh of relief, left the scene of the crime, maybe even laid low for a little bit. But Jazz liked a bit of a challenge, and a certain black-and-white had caught his attention now.

 

Now, what could he do to get the Enforcer on scene again -- or find where his routine took him?

 

xXxXxXx

It was a few months later that Prowl properly _met_  the visored mech for the first time, even if he had seen him around town. It was at the little café that Prowl liked to visit after his shift was done, the one tucked away into the space between two office buildings. They always kept an extra crystalline doughnut for him behind the counter — just in case — and they knew exactly how he liked his evening energon. Warm, with a little bit of copper on top. His normal table was in the corner, by the plant, where he could see the rest of the room, where his back was to a wall, but he wasn’t too far from the door, and he could still hear the musicians the café often employed for the evening. Call it strategic. Paranoia. Boring. All three had been applied to him.

 

But today, there was someone in his spot. His doorwings flared slightly at the unnecessary break in routine, and the mech looked up as Prowl approached.

 

“Excuse me.” He couldn’t keep the ice out of his voice.

 

The mech’s smile went to something that looked… disappointed? His face returned to the pleasant smile as quickly as it had fallen. “‘M sorry. Am I in th’ wrong spot?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The other mech stood up, picking up the instrument sitting next to him. Prowl brushed past him and sat down. The other mech hesitated.

 

“Yes?” Prowl wanted his doughnut. And his energon. And some peace to check his schedule for tomorrow.

 

The other mech took a deep breath. “Full confession, m’mech… Been seeing ya here. Wanted ta say hi for a bit now. Sorry ta have gotten off on th’ wrong pede.”

 

Prowl hesitated, recognizing the mech as one of the musicians that the café had had playing on several occasions. He also recalled rather liking the mech's style, even if it was a little looser than he would normally listen to. Still, he narrowed his optics. “Have you been stalking me?”

 

The visored mech threw up his hands. “No! Just… saw ya around.”

 

Prowl’s doorwings twitched again. The other mech was lying, he could tell. But he also didn’t seem to mean any harm. But… a memory came back to him, a presence he had sensed several times over the past few months, starting with his first arrest. He narrowed his optics further. It would be irresponsible to not investigate.

 

“What is your name, civilian?”

 

The visored mech grinned. “Jazz. Ya got one?”

 

“Prowl.”

 

“Nice t’ meet ya, Prowler.”

 

“That is _not my name_.”

 

xXxXxXx

The first time they kissed… well, neither of them would have ever admitted the desire beforehand. Certainly Prowl wouldn’t have, though Jazz might have hummed in a non-response if one had asked him about it. Regardless, it wasn’t even something that was supposed to happen.

 

It was still the early days of the war. Wasn’t even considered a war yet. It was just a small uprising from Kaon, and Jazz was rising in the ranks of the Autobots as an up-and-coming Special Ops agent. Prowl, a promising tactician, had been sent with him on this particular mission. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Just talking to a couple of informants in a couple different districts of Kaon.

 

It had gone completely pear-shaped almost from the moment they arrived in Kaon.

 

The two mechs were stuck together in an alleyway, hiding between a rusting, dented dumpster and a stack of packing boxes in various states of disintegration as bits of trash and propaganda skittered around their feet and Seekers flew overhead. Prowl had his back to the wall, doorwings almost painfully smashed against the freezing metal wall. Jazz was pressed up against Prowl’s chassis, hands on either side of his helm, his own turned to the side, watching the alleyway entrance from between two boxes.

 

Prowl, for all his emotional control, was finding it difficult to not drag Jazz’s face back around and shift their positions to something entirely more comfortable. Prowl hadn’t ever considered liking another mech like this. He’d never been interested in femmes, that was for certain, but he’d never considered that he might like mechs instead. Honestly, he’d never considered liking _anyone_.

 

But now he had a rather sexy visored mech pressed up against his chassis, and that made his processor and spark spin in ways he hadn’t experienced before. Prowl tried to think of decidedly not sexy things. Some of the murder scenes he’d seen as an Enforcer, maybe.

 

Then Jazz opened his mouth as he turned back to face Prowl.

 

And froze.

 

Time slowed down as the two mechs stared at each other, breathing stilled, engines running at a low hum.

 

Then Jazz moved, leaning forwards and touching his nose to Prowl’s.

 

“Can I?”

 

“ _Can_ you?” Prowl whispered.

 

Jazz snorted and closed the last few centimeters, his lips warm on Prowl’s cold ones.

 

Time stopped.

 

xXxXxXx

Their first fight came shortly after. Well, _shortly_ was relative, considering the long lives of Cybertronians.

 

The mission had been a bust, but they’d made it out of Kaon in one piece. Things had progressed rapidly after that, and the two didn’t see each other too often for a few millennia. A few more stolen kisses in dark hallways, the occasional cube of energon together before staff meetings. They rose to the tops of their departments. Became second and third in command of the entire Autobot army.

 

It was the night before they were to flee Cybertron. After reporting to Optimus Prime on the readiness of the ship meant to take them away from the dying planet ravaged by the war, they’d stood around outside Jazz’s quarters, the mech in question shuffling his pedes in the doorway.

 

“Want t’ come in?”

 

Prowl shook his head. “It would be inappropriate.”

 

Jazz’s head snapped up, and Prowl could feel his stare. “And th’ other stuff _isn’t_?”

 

“We…”

 

Jazz held up a hand. “I don’t want t’ argue with ya, Prowler. Just… forget it, ‘kay?”

 

Prowl’s doorwings dipped. “I am sorry, Jazz.”

 

“‘S okay, m’mech. See ya tomorrow for mornin’ energon before we leave?”

 

“I will try.” Prowl turned away.

 

Jazz hesitated, then opened his mouth. “Prowler?”

 

Prowl paused, and turned his helm back. “Yes?”

 

“I… have a good recharge, ‘kay?”

 

“You as well.” He left then, the sound of his pedes vanishing around the corner.

 

Jazz closed his door and let his helm fall against it.

 

“I’m a slagging idiot.”

 

Unbeknownst to him, Prowl was just around the corner, thinking much along the same lines.

 

_I love ya Prowler, I love you Jazz._

 

xXxXxXx

They managed to say it to each others faces not long after. At least, for them it wasn’t long after.

 

Even with it being about four million and five Earth years later.

 

Teletraan had managed to wake all the surviving Autobots up after their forced crash-stasis, finding them Earth vehicles to use for their alt-modes, repairing them as necessary. Now, during a quiet moment in the midst of finding new allies and old enemies, Jazz sat out on a cliff, swinging his legs and watching the Earth sunset. He heard a mech behind him, but he didn’t need any doorwings or to look to know who it was.

 

“I want to apologize for the other night.” Prowl said. Jazz could hear the slight shuffling of pedes. That told him more than anything else. Prowl never fidgeted like that.

 

“Isn’t it pretty?” Jazz said, mildly, optics still locked on the sunset.

 

“I suppose it has a certain aesthetic appeal, yes.”

 

Jazz chuckled. “Sit down, Prowler.”

 

His peripheral vision registered the mech sitting next to him, but not swinging his legs like Jazz was.

 

“You did not respond to my apology.”

 

Jazz shrugged, a small smile appearing on his face. “It was four million years ago. Be pretty silly to keep a grudge that long, right m’mech?”

 

Prowl hesitated, then laid a hand on Jazz’s. Jazz turned to look at him, surprised. “Still, if I had been able to predict the outcome of our flight from Cybertron, I would not have responded in the way I did.”

 

Jazz’s voicebox stalled a little, and he reset it with a stutter. “And how would ya have responded, m’mech?”

 

Prowl leaned in. Jazz’s breathing caught then. In four million and a few thousand years, Prowl had never initiated any sort of closeness. It had always been Jazz.

 

“I would have accepted your invitation. And I would have told you what I realized a long time ago, before making sure you forgot everything else.”

 

“And what’s that, m’mech?” Even Prowl’s slight innuendo couldn’t overshadow or make Jazz’s engines run faster than the promise of what Jazz had hoped for for so long.

 

“That I love you.” Prowl leaned his forehead against Jazz’s.

 

“Ya know why I wanted ya t’ come in?”

 

“Is it for the same reason?”

 

Jazz chuckled, leaning in to capture Prowl’s lips in their first kiss for a long, long time. “Yeah. Love ya too, Prowler.”


End file.
